


To live again

by Sometimesalwayssarcastic



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Illness, Mentions of past abuse, Pretty much the same warnings as the show, Slow Burn, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:43:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sometimesalwayssarcastic/pseuds/Sometimesalwayssarcastic
Summary: The winter formal is coming and Clay can’t help but find himself reverting back to the state of panic that he had spent weeks attempting to escape from, while Tony finds himself unable to move past the guilt of allowing Hannah Baker to slip through his fingers when she needed him the most.Tony figures some time out will help and one simple question gives light to a different side of their friendship that Clay never noticed was there.





	1. Winter formal

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This story takes place about a month after the first season ends and deals with the repercussions of withholding evidence, Clay and Tony's slowly building relationship, and other things of that nature. :)  
> I decided to try working on this as I edit and change around the other story I had posted on here that I have since removed. I plan on basically rewriting it and only posting it again once I have finished it.  
> With that said, here is the silly little story~

Frowning at the crumpled sheet of paper laying pathetically on his desk, Clay couldn’t help but find the contents to be a _little_ inappropriate.

Sure he knew that this event was coming up, just as it did _every_ year, but he just didn’t really see it as being practical for the time being – not with the impending law suit and string of suicides haunting the high school recently.

It just seemed too cheerful for the gloomy atmosphere that had nearly suffocated the students lately – too ignorant of the evils lurking within every corner of every classroom. Though, he appeared to be the only one thinking as much, if the excited chatter of his classmates beside him were any hint.

“Oh my gosh, what am I going to wear?!”

“Do you think John will ask me to go?”

“Where should I get my hair done?”

Barely concealing an exasperated groan, Clay increased the volume of the music emanating from his headphones, finding the possibility of going deaf due to the risky frequencies much more appealing than having to listen to those girls go on about that _stupid_ dance any longer.

It was just a week until the Winter Formal that the student government seemed tentative to even put on in the first place, and the excitement that usually coincided with parties of that nature livened his first period up in a manner that hadn’t been accomplished since at least before Hannah and her tapes.

Normally he would have been grateful for the shift in mood. As it was he was working towards recovery, slowly and not without issue, but he was trying.

He was not trying to forget Hannah, for he knew how self-depreciating that would wind up being. Hannah Baker was his first love whom slashed his heart the moment she so much as pricked her perfect skin with that god forsaken razor. How could be forget someone like that?

No, he was not aiming to move on and forget, instead he was attempting to make peace with the tragedies that broke him and rebuild himself to be stronger, always remembering but never dwelling on what he could not change.

However, moving on was always much simpler in theory than action, so the lightened mood was pleasant in that aspect. It was just the sheer nature of the excitement that made his stomach drop with dread.

The Winter Formal – the place where he had danced with Hannah and chatted with Jeff, both individuals, whom were once such prominent figures in his life, haunted the sheer concept of that activity.

Even now, a month after the depositions, he still couldn’t will himself to reflect on the dance, not even when Skye and Tony had opted to bring it up during one of their hang outs.

They had asked him about whether or not he was going, and he had responded with a swift _no._ The only reason he had attended the last event was because he had lost a bet and, now that he was no longer coerced into going by a good grade, he had no obligation to.

Or, at least that was what he kept telling himself.

“Hey, earth to Clay. Is everything alright with you, man?”

The sudden voice at his side effectively managed to grab his attention, blue eyes blinking blankly at the familiar boy standing beside his desk. A dark eyebrow was quirked and brown hues were cloudy with concern as Tony awaited an answer, his hands hidden within the confines of his jacket pocket.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Clay reassured, any thoughts regarding the dance being shoved into the farthest recesses of his mind for later reflection, “Were you saying something, Tony?”

A moment of silence transpired between the two as the shorter teen studied the other, his eyes flickering up and down his lean frame skeptically before he finally ventured an answer anyway,

“I was asking if you changed your mind about the dance.”

“What? No, why would you think I did?”

“You have the pamphlet on your desk, Clay.” Tony pointed out as tan fingers emerged from their dark cover to grasp the wrinkled paper still laid out before him, “What would a guy with no interest in going be doing with this?”

“I’d be throwing it out…?”

“Mhm. Looks like you already tried.” Tony chuckled, his thumb running over the layer of ceases lining the once flawless sheet of paper in explanation of his statement, “But I’m guessing something stopped you. Want to talk about that?”

Yet another question voiced and Clay couldn’t help but sigh, his back moving to press against the rough plastic of the chair in defeat. If Tony was convinced you were having trouble of any sort, he wouldn’t leave you alone until he assisted you in getting through the rough times, no matter what you had to say pertaining to the matter.

That was relatively new in Tony; a trait brought out of the boy by Hannah’s death and the job that she had left for him.

Clay had known the other for a long ass time and, while he had always been kind and polite, he had never been quite so assertive and pushy when it came to others voicing their feelings. Seeing as he came from a family on the rougher side of town, Tony was raised with the belief that wearing your heart on your sleeve only led you to a life of pain. Instead people were to mask their feelings through a shield of confidence and nonchalance, only showing his softer side to those that earned his respect and trust.

Hannah changed that in him, though. She taught him the dangers of disguising how you feel and, while he himself maintained the air of indifference that he was raised with, he began pressing people to open up more – to speak to him about their troubles or concerns for the sheer reason that he never wished to find anyone like he found Hannah Baker that night.

Tony wanted to save people, or, at least, he wanted to save Clay, even if that meant saving him from himself.

“It’s really nothing, Tony. I was just thinking, that’s it.”

“Thinking? You know, that’s a very dangerous past time you have there. You spend way too much time in your head, Clay.” Pausing as the bell signifying the beginning of the school day rang, the shorter boy set the paper back on Clay’s desk before moving to return to his own seat a little way over, “Learn to give yourself a break sometimes. You can’t live in the past or you’ll miss the present.”

                                                                      -xxx-

 

Slowly but surely the day passed, the minutes gradually trickling by with a snail’s pace that left Clay at his wit’s end. Each period was irritatingly similar to the first, his classmates far too fixated on the prospect of the formal to hold conversations that even remotely deviated from the topic.

Everywhere he turned he caught glimpses of eager chatter pertaining to potential dance mates, plans for before and after, what they were going to wear; it was all just too infuriating, inappropriate and _unnerving_.

It didn’t help that he began noticing Hannah like shapes lingering at the Dance table and the familiar, phantom call of _‘Helmet’_ reverberating throughout the noisy halls – a grim remembrance of what his life had been like nearly a year in the past.

When his greatest concern was finishing his geometry homework before class, remembering the difference between past and present tense verbs in French, and if he would ever be able to work up the nerve to ask Hannah to dance

Things had been so much more _simple_ before.

“Hey, Clay.”

Barely able to suppress the urge to flinch at the sudden voice, Clay realized that he had allowed his attention to drift from his locker to Hannah Baker’s old one once again, the barest shape of a curly haired, smiling girl staring at him catching the corner of his eye.

_Don’t look, she’s not really there._

“Uh, h-hey Tony…” The taller boy mumbled after a moment, his gaze slowly moving from the locker with a haunting past to instead glance at his friend before ultimately landing on the bottom of his opened locker, “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you were ready to go.” Tony replied carefully, his hesitant tone speaking volumes of the concern he still harvested for his friend, “Are you?”

“Ah- yeah, sure, just give me a minute.”

Required books for that night’s homework were grabbed and hastily stuffed into his backpack before the locker door was shut and both boys were making their ways down the hall, their footsteps falling into a rhythmic pattern.

Around them few students still lingered, although the ones that did spared quick peers at their forms, indicating that their sudden, hushed whispers were undoubtedly pertaining to both Tony and himself. Though, really, that was nothing new at this point.

It had been three weeks since the tapes had been released to the public, making it so everyone in the school was now aware of the evils the thirteen had committed – were aware that they had all inadvertently pushed the beautiful Hannah to kill herself.

For once the sensation of phantom eyes surrounding him were not as imagined as usual.

“Don’t let them bother you.” Tony commented once they pushed through the doors of the school, his attention reverting to Clay only briefly before he focused on retrieving his keys from his pockets, “This is all just more drama for them, it won’t last long.”

Clay knows what he’s referencing and can’t help but mentally disagree with his friend. This wasn’t just a shitty rumor or an embarrassing act, this was a crime that thirteen people were responsible for, and, if he was honest, he knew he deserved the attention. He deserved to be the subject of those judging eyes – to be known throughout the school for what he did, or, rather _didn’t_ do, just as much as the other’s did.

But he mentioned none of that, instead deciding to merely shrug and mutter a “Sure” in response, before he wordlessly slunk into the passenger side of Tony’s precious Mustang.

Now a day he rarely rode his bike to and from school. Instead his mother, father, and Tony all saw to it that he was given a ride regardless of Clay’s complaints.

Apparently they all believed that he had hurt himself enough on the small metal contraption, though he could tell that his parents didn’t truly believe that the plethora of cuts – now barely apparent on healing skin – were the result of a bike accident. Still, they never pressed deeper into the issue, for which Clay was truly grateful.

How could he explain what Bryce did without mentioning his confession? That particular tape, side 14, was mysteriously absent from the released tapes, leading Clay to wonder just what became of the recording that he had fought so hard to obtain.

No further words were shared between the two as Tony pulled out of the parking lot and began the familiar drive to Clay’s house, one hand expertly placed on the top of the wheel whilst the other rested leisurely against the door of the car.

Before them the usual blur of the town whizzed by and silence settled in the vehicle for a good portion of the trip until Tony finally ventured a conversation,

“So, about the Winter Formal…”

Barely suppressing a sigh at the topic, Clay sent the other an unamused look but didn’t respond, figuring his friend would make his intentions clear regardless of what he said.

“I’ve been thinking about going.”

“That’s cool… Seems like a lot of people are.”

“Yeah…”

“Will you be going with Brad?”

Almost the moment after his inquiry was voiced Tony’s visage darkened, his eyebrows constricting and posture stiffening. He had obviously pinched a nerve with the topic he was broaching and guilt twisted his stomach painfully.

_Great fucking going there, Clay._

Something had happened that the other had yet to tell him, and Clay couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. For all of the worries that he had voiced to Tony, the other had never really returned the favor. No matter what Tony scarcely confided in him with his own concerns, and Clay was silently offended by that fact.

“No… We… we, uh, broke up a few weeks ago, actually.” Tony confessed, successfully snapping Clay from his sardonic train of thoughts.

“Oh… Shit, sorry man, I didn’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tony shrugged, the air of nonchalance he was attempting to convey a sharp contrast to the pain glistening in brown eyes at the reminder, “Anyway, they asked me to DJ again this year and offered me two free tickets to attend if I did. I had originally planned on inviting Brad, but given the circumstances, that’s not really an option anymore...”

The car jerked to a halt in Clay’s driveway and the taller boy could only stare in puzzlement at the looming shape of his house, unaware that they had even entered his neighborhood already. Slowly, he lifts his schoolbag onto his shoulder in an attempt to stall, his mind racing to conjure up an appropriate response.

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” Adjusting the pack on his shoulder closer to his collar, Clay nodded slightly to show his agreement, “You-ah- I’m sure you’ll do a great job again anyway...”

“Thanks…” The word was played out slightly as Tony spoke, his fingers tapping pensively against the fabric on his thighs as he appeared to ponder something, “I’m not really sure what to do with the ticket now… What do _you_ think I should do with it?”

“Well, I guess that’s up to you...?”

When several moments went by and Clay made no move to indicate that he understood what Tony was hinting at, the boy sighed and silently cursed the other’s inability to read into situations.

“Okay, let’s try this again. I’m asking if you want to come with me, Clay.”

“Oh…” He blinked, mouth running dry as he took to staring at his friend, “… Like, as friends, right?”

“…. Sure.”

“Cool, cool… I, um, I’m actually not really sure If I’m going to go or not, but I’ll uh, I’ll let you know?”

Tony’s face was unreadable as he nodded, his attention wandering to the leather of his wheel,

“Of course.”


	2. La bruja

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Skye leaves a foreboding prediction for the future and Clay finds himself questioning his own feelings when Tony gets asked to the dance by someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time that I've tried to write for Skye, so I hope I didn't butcher her too much - I really like her character <3

 

The next morning, when Tony came to pick him up, neither one mentioned the inquiry voiced the previous afternoon. Instead they stuck to more trivial pursuits, discussing homework assignments, upcoming midterms, anything and everything that came to mind and would keep silence from consuming both of them.

Quiet and stillness, as they were brought to learn, were dangerous, especially when the tension growing between them was almost palpable, making for an unwelcomed change.

Usually they felt at ease around each other regardless of the circumstances. Often times they would ride around at all hours of the night with nothing but the soft lull of music emanating from a tap. Before that was never weird, never unfavorable. If anything it was some of the most relaxing times Clay had had in what felt like months.

Now, though, the taller of the two took to staring inattentively out the window, his mind still muddled with sleep as Tony spoke idly about something his brother had done – or perhaps hadn’t done – but, he wasn’t really paying attention. His patience and attention span seemed to be in short supply lately.

“You know, if you’re going to pretend to pay attention you might want to blink every once in a while.” Tony chuckled, sparing a side glance towards the passenger seat. Ever since Clay had initially climbed into the car that morning he could tell that the other wasn’t really paying him a lick of attention; instead he was dwelling once more on his thoughts, which the shorter boy couldn’t find the ability to take offense to.

Clay had always been reserved, tending to drift off into his own world in favor of paying attention to the real one around him. He did it so often that Tony was now able to spot what he silently labeled the ‘La la land’ expression that marked Clay as being too far gone to care.

The change in his visage was always minute, barely notable if one wasn’t looking close enough, but Tony could see it clear as day.

Bright blue eyes would darken ever so slightly and his lips would fall slack, forming a line that was a bit more expressionless than normal. The amount of times he would blink would decrease sharply, and the shorter of the two would immediately muse that he was more likely to have better success coercing a wall into giving a more intelligible response than the other.

When a moment passed before Clay appeared to react to his teasing comment, Tony knew that he was correct in his assumptions, a thought that managed to pull a ghost of a smile onto full lips. Clay really could be too easy to read.

“What? Oh, shit, sorry man, what were you saying? Something about your brothers?”

Sparing another swift glance in Clay’s direction, the shorter of the two could detect the slightest glimmer of guilt lighting blue eyes and Tony’s smile grew larger as a soft snicker escaped him.

Indeed, he had expressed a single statement pertaining to his brothers when they had pulled out of Clay’s neighborhood, but, now that they were nearly at the school, Tony had, in fact, been discussing some of the cars he had been working on in his garage.

It was a topic that he knew the other to know little to nothing about, and probably cared even less, but it wasn’t as though Clay was really listening anyway.

“I was just telling you about some of the cars that have been dropped off recently. Seems like a lot of people have been getting into crashes lately, though I have to say very few have gotten as much damage as you did on your bike. I give you credit there.”

The last two sentences were jokes, the tone laced with a thick trace of sarcasm and Tony could tell by the slowly forming simper on the other’s pale face that he had not only understood his joke but took some joy from it as well.

“Very funny Tony.” He mumbled, his cheeks taking on a faint shade of pink as he rolled his eyes, “Blame the cars; They come out of nowhere.”

“So you’re telling me that it wasn’t a parked car that took you out that day on the bike?”

Clay hesitated at that, the color on his face darkening as he appeared to become stumped for a response,

“How do you know-…?”

“I didn’t until you just confirmed it.” He smirked, attention drifting fully to regard the other as his Mustang moved to park in his usual slot at school, “That takes some skill, you know.”

“Oh, shut it.”

There was an indignant huff and a grunt before the passenger door was opened and Clay was stepping out in feigned offense, although the small grin quirking the side of his lips was proof enough that he had managed to ease the tension between them to some degree.

For now, that would just have to do.

The rest of the walk to first period was filled once more with idle chatter, the unease between them dissipating until it was virtually nonexistent. Things were back to normal, or, as close to normal as they could ever be as of the late.

With the conclusion of first period came their parting of ways, only to meet back up for lunch at their usual table.

In the past they had drifted apart and, as a result, had taken to residing at different tables. Both were loners by nature so they had never really thought much about acquiring the other’s company, that is, until the shit fest that was the tapes.

Ever since then they had reached an unspoken agreement to always sit together, a deal that soon grew to involve Skye as well, just like old times. Back in middle school where the concept of high school was so new and cool. When they all hadn’t turned into selfish monsters that had more skeletons hidden in their closets than any child their age had any business hoarding.

“If I hear one more comment about that formal I’m going to puke.” Skye groaned as she plopped her lunch tray on the table and subsequently took the oblivious Clay by surprise. He hadn’t even noticed that he had taken to staring intently at his sandwich, “It’s just a shitty school function full of shitty people listening to shitty music, what’s the big deal?”

“Hey now, I might just take offense to that music comment.” Tony teased before Clay had the chance to conjure up a coherent response, his own tray coming to rest beside the taller boy with more grace and less noise than Skye’s did, “And, while I can usually agree with that, I think this time it’ll be good for the school.”

“Good? Did you forget the last dance? Full of underage drinking and slutty teenagers?” Despite the words a thin smile spread across blackened lips as Skye shot the shorter boy an amused look, her hands raising to clasp in front of her, “If you consider teenage pregnancy and liver failure good, then yes, these dances truly heal their souls – if half those kids even have souls.”

A soft chuckle graced the air as Tony expressed his amusement with Skye’s rather pessimistic words, his head bobbing up and down ever so slightly as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to mask the growing smile.

“As much as I enjoy your optimism, because truly, I do, I think this dance is good because it’s something for the school to look forward to. Something that isn’t a rumor or about the tapes or even the lawsuit. It offers a break.”

Clay nodded at Tony’s explanation, finding a semblance of sense in the tone despite the fact that the sheer concept of the dance filled him with dread and memories that he had spent the past few weeks attempting to suppress.

The movement, however slight, appeared to catch both his friend’s attentions, as immediately two sets of eyes were trained on him with similar expectant looks. They wanted him to add his two cents into the conversation, he knew that much, but he just wasn’t sure how to express what he was feeling in words. Or, if he even wanted to voice it.

“Well, I guess Tony has a point… Everyone seems really excited about it…”

“Thank you, Clay.”

When a victory grin was leveled at Skye from an entertained Tony, the girl could only roll her eyes and return a small smile. Her sullen points had been out voted, but she knew they respected her for them regardless.

“Just get a room already you two.” She jeered, arms crossing over her chest as she leaned as far back as the chair would allow, “Oh, but speaking of rooms, I assume you two are going since you’re suddenly so pro-cesspool of horny teenagers grinding against one another in a dark room? Who with?”

Brown eyes immediately darted unconsciously to Clay at the inquiry and both boys fell silent, not precisely sure how to respond when neither really knew the answer themselves.

“… I already told you I’m not going…” Clay finally murmured, “I may not think it’s a horrible thing for the school, but that doesn’t mean that I’m attending.”

“Good decision, it’s a waste of time. What about you, leather boy?”

A dark brow raised at the sudden nickname, though the smile adorning his mien remained nonetheless,

“They asked me to DJ again this year and I’m thinking about accepting.”

 “Right. Complete with your collection of tapes, I’m sure the dance will be _wonderful_.”

Another roll of brown eyes and Tony took a bite from his sandwich rather than rewarding the girl with a response as the other two broke into soft chuckles.

Laughing at the shorter boy’s expense, how original. For a moment he attempted to appear unamused, though the mirth dancing through dark hues was unmistakable.

“Say what you will, Miller, but there’s nothing like the sound of tapes.”

“Sure, Tony. Anyway, I’ll be working a late shift at Monet’s that night, so, if you two do end up going, which I know you will, stop by.”

Raising his gaze from the chips he was slowly consuming, Clay’s eyebrow rose quizzically at the other’s statement. What part of ‘I’m not going’ did they not comprehend?

“Skye, I already told you I’m not-…”

“Yeah you are. I can see the future, remember?”

“Ah, right, that mystical bullshit.” Tony snickered, attention flickering skeptically towards the sole female, “Your card trick wasn’t bad, but I’m catholic, so that ‘la bruja’ shit doesn’t fly with me.”

“Just wait and see, then. Now, I have a sculpture to finish.” Undaunted by the lack of belief, Skye rose from her chair and moved to leave the cafeteria, pausing only to glance over her shoulder and address the shorter of the two males, “Oh, and leather boy, you’re going to have to try harder than that. The guy’s as dense as a rock, and he seems to like the nice, good girl types. Good thing you’re going as ‘just friends’, right?”

With that, she left, leaving a stiff, wide eyed Tony and a confused Clay in her wake.

“What did she mean about -…”

“Nothing, Clay.” The tanner boy snapped, attention remaining on the door the girl had just disappeared through as his fingers unconsciously created dents in the flesh of his bread, “Nothing at all.”

_How did she know all that?_

                                                                           -xxx-

One the bell signifying the conclusion of lunch rang, the rest of the day passed considerably swifter than the morning, making it so, before either of them knew it, the last period of the day had ended and they were seated in Tony’s parked Mustang.

Around them teenagers loitered around, speaking leisurely with friends outside while passing cars honked in warning of their presence. They were all so carefree, so unaware of the evils that had transpired the past few weeks, and, if Clay was honest, he felt the vaguest flicker of jealousy light his veins.

Though it was a sensation that faded almost as swiftly as it came, as he knew how useless and counterproductive jealousy could be. After all, his being envious of Hannah choosing Justin over him was one of the many instances in which he had accidentally hurt the girl he loved.

“Want to stop by Monet’s? You look like shit and a wise girl once told me that there’s nothing that Hot Chocolate can’t fix.”

“Oh yeah?” Clay mumbled, fixing his friend with a disbelieving expression, “Says the same guy that complains about the high priced beverages?”

“Is that a no?”

“… No, let’s go.”

Tongue flicking out to lick his now smiling lips, Tony allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he laughed. Clay truly could be such a child sometimes.

“That’s more like it. I-…”

“Hey man, I think that girl’s staring at you…” The taller of the two suddenly interrupted, a finger rising to discretely indicate the driver’s side window, “Do you know her?”

As Tony turned in his seat to locate the direction his friend was gesturing to, the smile slipped into a frown as his dark brows knitted together.

“No, I don’t think so…”

Squinting, Tony struggled to make out the exact details of the girl’s appearance. She seemed to be short- even more so than him – and sported a pale complexion with matching long blonde hair. She was rather attractive, he noted, the kind of girl he knew his brother’s would have a word or two to say about.

“Well, I think she’s walking over here…”

“Yeah… Give me a minute…”

Before Clay had the chance to offer a further comment, Tony had slipped out of the car and shut the door behind him just as the aforementioned girl made it towards him. Through the clear glass Clay could detect the slightest traces of nervousness marring her features, her hands fumbling with the hem of her skirt a further indication of her unease.

Why was she so nervous?

Tony appeared to be the first to speak after a moment, and a short conversation was held, the nature of which Clay struggled to read, as now both of their faces were hidden from his view.

He wished that the other had kept his door open upon his exit.

When, a few minutes later, their chat came to a halt, the girl swiftly walked away and Tony climbed back in, mien just as neutral as it had been earlier.

Allowing the other boy a moment, Clay remained silent, although his attention stayed glued to his friend expectantly.

“So…?”

“Her name’s April.” Tony replied nonchalantly as he re-buckled his seatbelt and started the Mustang, “She’s new here.”

“And…?”

“And…” Tony began with a smile, evidentially toying with Clay’s curiosity as he took an unnecessary instance to pause before continuing, “She asked me to go to the Winter Formal with her.”

Clay found himself incapable of speech as Tony’s words hung in the air, his shock no doubt apparent through widened blue eyes and slightly parted lips, though Tony’s focus was, luckily, geared towards the street.

She was staring at him because she was planning on asking him _out_ … That made a lot of sense…

But then, why did Clay feel his mouth run dry at the sheer idea of his friend hooking up with someone else, of losing his permanent passenger side seat to an individual whom would consume all of his best friend’s attention…?

“Oh…” The taller of the two finally said as he gulped and forced his gaze from the back of Tony’s head to instead stare out the front window, “Well that’s – that’s cool…. Um… And you said…?”

“What I said?” Tony reiterated, brow quirking up in entertainment, “Let’s just say she’s not my type. I thanked her for asking, but told her I was, you know, _gay_.”

Of course. Tony was gay – he knew that, yet the concern and the fear that he had agreed and, as a result, retracted the offer that he had made Clay only the day before lingered.

Because, call him selfish, but he _enjoyed_ having Tony there all the time – to be his friend’s most trusted ally, a position that would have been in jeopardy should he find a new significant other.

Or, at least, that was how he made sense of the anxiety he experienced at the concept of another individual being interested in his friend.  

“Yeah, yeah, right…” The paler of the two nodded, his fingers tapping tunelessly against his thigh as he continued to bob his head, “…See? I told you I wasn’t the only one that didn’t know…. That you were gay, I mean…”

“Most people know, Clay.” Tony disagreed, his tone light with the amusement that still lingered from the sheer nature of his friend’s surprise, “She’s new, so she has an excuse.”

He fell silent at that.

“…. Just shut up and drive…”

With a chuckle and a grin, Tony did as he was told.


	3. Why would a dead girl lie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay works through lingering concerns with Tony at Monets and the police show up at Clay's house for questioning.

When they arrive at Monet’s they find it as busy as ever and the barista that takes their order barely seems to be keeping her wits. They’re short staffed and, if the growing line of chattering teenagers is any hint, the place would only become more populated as the afternoon went on. Skye certainly seems to have her work cut out for her when her shift began in the next half an hour.

It takes a good few minutes and a few idle attempts at conversation before they both acquire their order – neither of which consisted of hot chocolate because, despite what Hannah may have said, that shit was just way too sweet. Coffee solved all their problems just fine and didn’t risk gagging them in the process.

“So…” Clay began once they were seated in their customary chairs by one of the far windows of the establishment, Tony’s Mustang glistening just beyond the glass, “I never realized that you were so popular with girls…”

There’s a snort that resounds from Tony at the comment and the taller boy isn’t quite sure how to take the reaction.

“You can say that.” The shorter of the two replies, dark eyes peering at Clay in unveiled humor as he lifts his drink to hover just inches from his lips, “Not so much after going out with Ryan, though. Usually just a new girl here or there that hasn’t heard the rumors yet.”

Clay nods at that, his hands cupping the warmth of his cup in an attempt to fully enjoy the heat seeping through the paper,

“Yeah… I know what you mean… That rumor that I was gay Freshman year made my chance with girls pretty slim, though I guess they really weren’t that great to begin with…”

For a moment he’s not certain what motivated him to discuss that particular topic, but it feels right and he allows his gaze to remain on the lid of the container before he continues softly,

“By the time Hannah came it had pretty much died down, but I was still worried, you know? That she’d find out and just assume like the rest of them…”

He can feel Tony’s gaze on him without even having to look up and can imagine the pensive expression marring his friend’s face as he no doubt attempted to conjure some witty one liner that would simultaneously solve his dilemma and irritate the hell out of Clay.

“Is that why you originally liked Hannah? Because she didn’t know about the rumors?”

“What? No, of course not. I mean, that was kind of a plus, but it wasn’t the main reason. She was just different; you know? She was funny and smart and… Well, she was perfect…”

“Nobody’s perfect, Clay.” Tony negates almost immediately, his visage serious as he regards the taller boy firmly, “You’re not doing her or yourself any justice by forgetting that.”

“I know that… I know she wasn’t actually perfect, alive or dead, but… Those tapes, Tony, they’re still all I can think about. All those people, including myself, we caused her to take her own life. How am I supposed to forget that?”

“You’re not.” The answer is simple and Clay knows it’s right, but he opts against saying so. Instead he allows the other to continue, “What they did- what we all did-  to Hannah was horrible, but her tapes hurt people too, Clay. I don’t think we’re supposed to forget either of those things.”

Clay releases a shaky breath at the response he knew was coming, and, for a moment, he’s reminded of the time just over a month ago where this very conversation would have resulted in anger and hysterics on his part.

But he’s not the same, unstable kid he was then. He’s not prone to flying off the lid at the slightest mention of Hannah and her tapes nor did he struggle to ignore the feelings flooding him. Sure he still experienced difficulties in explaining them to others, but he was trying.

“Hurt people… Like Alex?”

“Like Alex.” Tony agrees slowly. That was a topic that everyone seemed to be dancing around as of the late – Alex’s attempt to take his own life as a result of all the drama that had transpired following the release of the tapes, “We can move on, but not forget. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.”

Another nod and Clay muses that he must look like a bobble head at this point. But, damn it, Tony was right, just like he _always_ was.

“Do you… Do you think he’s going to wake up…?”  
There’s a moment of pause as Tony considers his reply, brown eyes flickering down to regard the table tops and he takes to gently biting his bottom lip,

“I really don’t know, Clay. I… I think only time can tell.”

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right…” When the heat becomes a bit too much to bear, Clay raises the drink to his lips and takes a sip. The moment the liquid touches his tongue he winces – it’s still too hot- and gently nurses his tongue in his mouth as he sets the cup back down to cool before choosing to change the somber conversation, “Before you mentioned when you went out with Ryan… You never really talk about him…”

“That’s because there’s not much to say.”

“You know, I never really would have thought you two were friends; you are both so different… - and I know you said that being friends and dating are two different things, but I – I’m not sure I agree with that…”

When Tony remains silent, Clay takes that as his cue to continue,

“I mean, a relationship is about liking the person you’re with, right? My mom always said that you should marry your best friend, and I think she’s right… But what the hell do I know about that kind of stuff…”

A hollow chuckle follows his rhetorical question as his attention drifts once more to regard his drink and Tony knows that he needs to do something- _say_ something – to keep this conversation from sky rocketing out of control.

“Maybe you’re right Clay. Maybe you should be in a relationship with your best friend.” He gulps and finds himself looking away from the other boy as well, his tone taking on a lighter note that he’s not sure is a result of speaking to Clay or his own sinking emotions, “But, things don’t always work out like that. Sometimes _people_ don’t work out like that...”

Being one of the few openly gay individuals in school wasn’t nearly as liberating or simple as many people seemed to believe it was. His options weren’t vastly open nor did everyone accept his orientation with open arms.

Ryan could be an ass and, while he wasn’t exactly Tony’s first choice, he was an openly gay, attractive male that Tony fell in lust with. They weren’t perfect for one another, neither were disillusioned enough to think that, but they were good for each other at the time.

It was Tony’s first real relationship and, while it certainly was not the best, it introduced the fact that he was gay to the school and distracted him for a while. Distracted him from watching the individual he truly cared about fall for a wonderful girl that was slowly fading.

So, maybe it was ideal to marry your best friend, but, when your best friend was a straight, heartbroken guy, he really didn’t see how that was going to happen.

When nothing more than silence transpires between the two, Tony clears his throat and moves to acknowledge Clay again, unsurprised to find him staring vacantly at the far too familiar table across from them,

“Give it time, Clay. I know it must not seem like it now, but things will get better. _You_ will get better.”

Again the taller boy nods and Tony feels a fleeting sense of pity for the downhearted kid slumped before him. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to lose the one you love and know that you could have, potentially, saved them had you the chance. But, while he couldn’t relate to that, he could understand the guilt still eating at Clay, because, maybe he may not have loved Hannah like the other did, but he too could have saved her.

He was the one that handed Hannah the recorder that would wind up hearing her grievances and last words. He had helped aid the girl in her suicide. He couldn’t just get over something like that either.

“It’s funny.” Clay finally ventures, the look crossing his mien as he spoke reminding Tony briefly of a broken child, “She said that she could never have been with me because she would have ruined me.”  
He pauses as blue eyes raise to meet concerned brown, the glassy tint they were taking on making it evident that the boy was barely suppressing the urge to cry,

“But shit, she still did anyway."

“Clay, I don’t-…”  
“Don’t bother lying, Tony. I know that the way I reacted was fucked up, but… I can’t bring myself to say that I regret what I did either. I don’t regret sending that picture of Tyler out, or keying Zach’s car… But, what I do regret, is how it affected them… I turned into the very bully that led Hannah to kill herself, and that’s not what she wanted… That was never what she wanted…”

“Maybe you should tell them that. That you’re sorry.”  
Light eyebrows knit together at the idea in evident puzzlement as he takes to starting blankly at his friend,

“What good would that do? It won’t change what I did, or what they did…”

“You don’t know that. Just… Just think about what one person apologizing to Hannah would have done. Maybe nothing, maybe something. We’ll never be able to find that out, but, right now, we can try.”

By now his drink is cool enough to consume, but suddenly Clay’s not so thirsty anymore.

“Alright… I will… Tomorrow…”

Mutual nods of agreement are exchanged as both boys fall back into their own thoughts. Minutes tick by and neither really notice, that is, until the familiar beep designated for his mother brings Clay’s phone to light and blue eyes stare apprehensively at the message.

“… Hey, Tony…?”

“Yeah, Clay?”

“When you gave the Baker’s the tapes did you give them _every_ tape?”  
A quizzical glance is thrown towards the taller boy at the question, but Tony replies regardless,

“I did…”

“Including the confession I got from Bryce…?”

Tony felt his mouth run dry, fingers digging unconsciously into the damp paper of his cup. He had been hoping to avoid that particular topic.

“I gave them everything recorded on all the tape, Clay.”

A shaky breath escapes the taller boy at the indirect confirmation, his eyes closing briefly before reopening to stare ruefully at his phone.

“I was wondering why that tape wasn’t released with the other’s… And I think I just found out why…”

Tony doesn’t even bother requesting clarification, well aware that Clay was working on making his point, although, from how pale his complexion has gotten, he knows that whatever it is his mom said can’t be good.

“Detectives are at my house and they want to talk to me now…. Apparently they’re asking about the confession and what I know about Jessica’s rape...”

A hand rakes through short hair and, for a moment, Clay finds it difficult to breath. His mother’s a goddamn lawyer, he knows how this shit goes, just like how he knows that nothing even remotely decent could come out of this, “Fuck, this isn’t good…”

                                                                       -xxx-

Clay’s not really sure how, or even when it was that they arrived back at his house, but he does know that maybe, just maybe, returning home right away wasn’t the smartest idea. Though, granted, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter to begin with.

After all, when your lawyer of a mother notified you that there were cops at your house looking to talk to you, there wasn’t much you could do.

Now, as he sat there on the couch while his mother discussed something he wasn’t quite certain he wanted to hear with the detectives, Clay mused that he would really rather be anywhere else at this moment. Even climbing that shitty rock wall that Tony seemed to adore so much.

Speaking of the other boy, Tony was currently nestled beside him on the couch, his expression unreadable. Upon hearing the nature of this meeting, and seeing how nervous Clay was, he had been absolutely adamant that he goes inside with him, despite the fact that he would be directed to leave the room during the actual discussion anyway.

Privacy laws or some shit, he thinks, though he can’t bring himself to actually give a damn. As far as police and the law went there were no such things as privacy, so he really couldn’t comprehend how the presence of a friend could impede or tarnish the information he expressed.

As they sit together on the couch, postures hunched and hands clasped in similar manners, both know better than to attempt to provide comfort.

After all, what the hell could they say?

‘Are you alright?’

‘Don’t worry, everything’ll be fine.’

‘It’s not as bad as it seems.’

They were all far past the point of lying to one another to preserve feelings.

“Just tell them everything they need to know. You can do this, Clay.”

A reassuring hand is placed on his shoulder followed by a gentle squeeze before the detectives are entering the room and Tony raises, albeit warily, and the taller of the two is temporarily reminded of the type of Police Officers that Tony is familiar with on his side of town.

“Good afternoon, Clay.” The female detective begins, the smile tilting up her lips nearly as fake as the lighthearted tone she was attempting to deceive him with. Clay can’t think of one thing that made that particular afternoon anything near _good_ , “Don’t worry, we’re not here to accuse you of anything. We just have some questions that we hope you’ll be able to answer.”

Another sickeningly feigned smile is directed towards him and the taller boy barely manages to regard the women without frowning. If she could just cut the theatrics, that would be great.

“Good afternoon…”

A glance is exchanged with Tony, and the detectives appear to take notice of him for the first time.

“And you are…?”

“Leaving.” The shorter boy’s tone is curt, but polite enough to be taken without a grain of salt as he turns to regard Clay apprehensively, “Call me later, okay?”

When a small nod is given as response, Tony directs one more look at the cops before leaving, his posture stiff and defensive in a manner only a man whom had witnessed the negative side of the law could look.

For a moment Clay wonders just what police on the other side are really like.

Neither of the strangers move to follow his friend, and Clay feels more alone than he had in a very long time. How long had he been relying on Tony’s presence to feel strong?

“Anyway, I’m sure you know why we’re here…”

Clay shrugs slightly and his gaze drops to regard the coffee table as his mother emerges from the kitchen to join him on the couch, the two detectives taking the surrounding chairs.

“He’s still a minor and I’m his mother.” She explains, as though anyone present truly cares, “I insist on staying in here while you talk to him.”

“Of course.”

Briefcases are opened and papers are extracted before the detectives make themselves at home on their coffe table, apparently aiming to organize everything they brought before making their intentions known. Beside him he could feel his mother sending him questioning looks and, for a moment, he hopes this lasts a long time.

He can’t even imagine the hellish conversation that would occur the minute these detectives were gone because, despite the fact that he had already come clean with her regarding the tapes, this was a detail he had intentionally left out.

“You are aware of a girl named Jessica Davis at your school, correct?”

Clay goes to nod but, at the expectant look his mother is leveling at him, he knows that’s not the right course of action.

“Yeah, I know her…”

“And you were also at the party she held on the 17th of September?”

“I was…”

“Can you tell me what you were doing that day?”

Actually, that was one of the last topics he wanted to delve into to. It was like scratching at a wound that had barely even ceased bleeding, but he knew the detectives didn’t care about that. No one ever really cared how their actions affected others.

“Well, I mean, I was kind of all over… It was a party…”

A look is exchanged between the detectives and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re well aware of his intentionally being vague, so he releases a breath and tries again,

“I spent most of it with a friend…”  
“And who was this friend?”

Clay spares a side glance towards his mother and he can practically feel the concern radiating from her at the nature of the inquiries. He still had never worked up the nerve to personally tell his mother about that night and he knows she’s dying to find out more.

The detectives too level him with a curious look and he feels like a circus act with how they’re regarding him as though he was liable to dissappear at any moment. He doesn’t enjoy that.

“… Hannah Baker…”

They’re writing something down on their shitty notepads the instant the first name is voiced and Clay wants nothing more than to melt into the couch, but he’s really not that lucky.

“Did you see Jessica at this party?”

“Of course, it was her party…”  
“When was the first time you saw her?”

A slight blush is crawling across his cheeks before the boy can stop it and his attention moves down to his hands.

“I was one of the first people at the party,” He admits, noting how inexperienced with the social world he sounds, “They said it was at 7, and I got there a little before… I guess I didn’t know that 7 meant 9, so I helped them set up…”

“I see… Was there alcohol at this party?”

The first thing Clay can think of at the mention of the party is Jeff’s bloody face and he grimaces, body reflexively pulling away from his mother’s touch as she attempts to calm him.

Why couldn’t they just get to the point?  
“Yeah, there was. Nothing too hard though, or at least I don’t think there was…”

“Did you see Jessica drinking there?”

“Did I see her?” He reiterates, not following where this was going. What did any of this have to do with her rape? “Yeah, but, I mean it was a party. Everyone had some kind of drink…”

“Even you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just a question.”

An indignant expression crosses pale features but the reappearance of his mother’s hand on his reminds him to just play along.

“I had a beer... I’m sorry, but I really don’t see how any of this has to do with Jessica getting raped.”

“So you do know why we’re talking to you about this?”

It takes every last ounce of control in him not to respond with a sarcastic comment, his irritation growing the longer the detective danced around his questions.

“You’re here because Bryce Walker raped Jessica Davis.”

“That is the accusation.” The male detective agrees and immediately Clay can feel a shiver rake down his spine. Something’s not right, “We know that something happened between Jessica Davis and Bryce Walker that night, but we’re here to find out what exactly that was.”  
“What that was? I told you, he freaking raped her. Why aren’t you out there arresting him?”  
“So you saw him rape her?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then how do you know he raped her?”

“Hannah said so in her tapes.”

“And you believe her?”

“Why would a dead girl lie?”

More writing commences as his tone turns serious and his hands clench together unconsciously.

They don’t believe either of them.

“And it was because of those tapes that you got the confession from Bryce?”

“Yes.”

“What was the nature of the meeting you had that lead to that confession?”

His eyes flicker down once more as he frowns, hesitant in reciting how he had tricked the other boy into talking to him. But, again, he supposes he really doesn’t have a choice.

“You heard it, didn’t you? I asked him and he told me.”

“He just willingly admitted that to you?”

He knows he should tell the truth – that he should lead into specifics pertaining to how he pried the confession from Bryce, but there’s something about the situation that warns him against it. The detectives seem strange, as though they’re merely asking the questions that are required of them.

In fact, the more he studies the male cop he can swear that he’s seen him somewhere before, he just can’t tell where.

“Yes. He openly admitted to me that he raped Hannah Baker.”

“Was she your girlfriend?”

Clay stiffens and opens his mouth to respond- they’re treading into dangerous waters there-, but his mother reacts first, lips drawn down into a scowl as she regards the detectives closely,

“I think that’s enough for today.”

The police appear intent to argue for a second, their gazes locked closely on the frozen Clay before they obey the mother’s demand and slowly stand up from their chairs. At the very least they are able to detect when they’ve overstayed their welcome.

“Of course, Mrs. Jensen.” The female smiles, though it still lacks any trace of warmth as she regards the boy in question, “I recommend staying in town for the foreseeable future – the confession is an important piece of evidence, so you will more than likely be asked to speak at the preliminary hearing and, if the accusation passes, to testify in court.”

“Yeah, right…”

“If you remember anything else, please feel free to call us.”

A card is handed to him and he accepts it absently, not bothering to even glance at it before stuffing it into his pocket. It’s not like he plans on calling them anyway.  
He watches the detectives exchange a few more, coarse words with his mother before they finally exit and he feels himself deflate even further into the cushion, head falling to rest in his hands.

Those questions… They weren’t _right…_ They were too critical – too fixated on Jessica and what she was going that night instead of looking into what Bryce was doing – what _he_ did.

_Why was that?_

“Clay, honey, are you alright?”

When there’s no answer the boy feels the seat next to him dip under the pressure of another body before a hand is placed gently on the middle of his back.

Great, he was worrying his parents again even after he swore he would be a better son.

“I’m fine, Mom.” The words are low and rough, effectively betraying the meaning behind them, “Just tired…”

He can’t see it, but he’s pretty certain that his mom is nodding now, a continuous bob up and down that makes him wonder if he had picked that particular bad habit up from her.

“You know we’re going to have to talk about this, right…? What confession are they talking about?”

Sure he knows, he’s known since the moment she originally noticed the array of cuts marring pale skin, but that still didn’t mean he _wanted_ to.

Actually… As he sits there, with his stomach rolling and mind burning, he figures that maybe talking won’t be such a bad thing after all. It’s better this way, for his mother to find out about the confession and Hannah from him rather than the police.

“You know how I ‘came clean’ with you after the tapes were released?” He waits for a confirmation from his mother, a simple nod, before he continues, “Well, there’s a few things I didn’t tell you… Including the confession and what I did to try and get revenge for Hannah…”


	4. Leave it to Uncle Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay reflects on his conversation with the detectives and Tony offers the chance for a needed adventure.

Growing up, Clay had never been one to engage in deep, complex conversations about his feelings, despite how hard his mother attempted to pry them out of him, and now, as he was reflecting on the talk he had with her, he knew why.

He just never knew how to _convey_ his emotions in words, more often than not finding himself stuttering and attempting to avoid the topic all together, or, in some cases, he even grew angry. Whether that be with himself or his mother’s incessant inquiries, he never quite knew. It was probably a mixture of the two.

His mom had taken the news of how he had procured the confession from Bryce about as well as was expected, which was to say, quite poorly. She had probably lectured him for the better part of an hour about how he shouldn’t put himself in danger for his ideals and how he should have allowed the issue to be settled legally. _Because that always worked out so well._

Clay had even recounted the reasoning behind his keying Zach’s car, but opted to leave out sending the picture of Tyler around. He couldn’t tell his mother that he had stooped that low.

It was only now that he was speeding across town on his bike that he could freely allow his thoughts to wander, his fingers gripping the handlebars until they turned white in frusteration.

Clay might have been oblivious in regards to social cues and preferred zoning out over acknowledging the lives of those around him, but he wasn’t outright blind, especially not with Tony around. He was aware of the advantage Bryce had in the eyes of the town and the court as well, which was evident by the line of questions the detectives had thrown at him.

They were all biased in one way or another, seeking to fault the girls rather than Bryce. After all, Bryce’s family was white, rich, and a rather large influence around their town. No one would be swift to throw him under the bus and there was no amount of parent to child talk that could deny that.

If he’s honest he’s glad, hell, he’s _thrilled_ that Jessica decided to move forward with the rape charges, but everything suddenly seems considerably more complicated than it did that day in Monets when he spoke to her about it.

The beeping of a car jerks him out of his thoughts and he quickly moves to the side of the road to allow the irritated driver to pass, completely unaware that he had taken to riding in the middle of the street while spacing out.

Maybe his parents and Tony had a point when they encouraged him against riding in the road.

Once he’s safely situated on the sidewalk he mysteriously never used, Clay digs his feet into the ground and stops his bike, gaze roving listlessly around him.

This was the town that he had been raised in, yet it had never felt so foreign to him – filled with lies and deceit that had only reared its ugly head when two kids lost their lives to its evil. _So much for this being the safest town in America._

For the first time since he’s stopped he actually bothers to acknowledge the establishment he halted before, only to find it to be nothing more than an abandoned building. He had sped off a lot farther than he thought, almost to the other side of town. Farther than his mom had wanted him to venture, though it really had been a while since he had actually heeded his mother’s requests.

In hindsight, maybe the town wasn’t the only thing that had changed for the worse lately.

He’s getting ready to head back and make his return home when the familiar purr of a muffler echoes down the empty street and Clay turns to regard a familiar red mustang heading towards him.

Tony really did have a knack for finding him when he just wanted to hide away from the world, but, then again, Tony wasn’t like the rest of the world.

He waits until the car is pulled up beside him and the passenger side window is lowered before he finally peers into the familiar vehicle to meet concerned brown eyes. For a minute he can’t help but think about how grateful he is that Tony’s change was a more positive one than his own.

“It’s dangerous riding around at night, you best be careful.” The tanner boy points out, gaze drifting pointedly towards the slowly healing wound situated on his forehead, “You left your house in a pretty big hurry, buddy, did something happen?”

Light brows furrow together at the question and Clay levels his friend with a perplexed look – how did he know that?

“How did you-…” He pauses mid-sentence as a sheepish look crosses the shorter boy’s expression and he suddenly realizes the answer to his own question, “- Wait, did you follow me all the way over here?”

Clay doesn’t need an answer to that – he _knows_ Tony did – but waits for one nonetheless. He’s not mad or disgusted by that fact, he’s just curious and he thinks Tony understands that when he finally obliges with a nod.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Clay wants to laugh at the explanation because if that wasn’t so utterly like Tony than he surely didn’t know what was. Even after the hell the taller boy had put him through during the tapes and the cruel accusations he had laid on him he still cared so deeply for Clay that it made him sick.

He didn’t _deserve_ that level of loyalty.

“Right…” Clay nods as his head turns to face the pavement below him awkwardly, “Well, as you can see, I’m just fine… Just decided to go on a short ride…”  
“On the other side of town?”

He stays quiet at that, well aware of what Tony is getting at. It’s comically obvious how not fine he is, but he wants to not feel like a handful for at least a minute. He wants to be what he says he is, he truly does, but as his chest constricts and his fingers ache from their grip on the cushioned handlebar he knows he’s not. Maybe he never will be.

“Hop in Clay, I’ll bring you back home.”  
Clay gulps and goes to refute the order, but ultimately decides to obey. He’s too tired to fight right now, too drained to feel anything but hurt and empty.

When he slides his leg over and off of his bike Tony accepts that as an answer and quickly exits the car to help him place it into the trunk before they’re both wordlessly situated back into the vehicle.

The leather beneath him is cold, vacant of the heat that it had previously absorbed from the sun and he shivers. He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment and the exertion that coincided with pedaling, but it’s pretty chilly outside and he’s only wearing a thin hoodie for cover.

He doesn’t mind though, because the sensation of the cold nipping at his face and hands reminds him that he’s still alive, somehow.

“It’s nearly 40 degrees out here and you’re only wearing that? You’re going to catch a cold.”

Sometimes Clay swears Tony can read his mind.

“That’s just a misconception…” He mumbles, not particularly sure why he feels the need to clarify that, but yet he continues nonetheless, “I mean, I guess being cold makes you more susceptible to getting a cold, but the common cold is actually a virus that you have to come into direct contact with to catch, so, theoretically, my chances right now are actually pretty low… I think…”

Throughout his tangent Clay allowed his gaze to lower until it rested completely on his lap, not wanting to see the other’s reaction to his nonsensical correction.

Nervousness truly did make people into fools, he muses.

“Wow, seriously, Clay?” Tony responds after a moment, his brows tipping up as he levels an incredulous look at his friend, although the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips hints at an edge of amusement as well, “Do you seriously want to take that chance?”

His first reaction is to say yes, though he knows better than to voice it out loud. He’s just being a stubborn child.

When the taller boy offers no response Tony rolls his eyes knowingly before reaching into the back seat and retrieves a blanket, only to promptly shove it onto Clay’s person.

“Here, use this. I turned the heat on too, but it might take a moment before you feel it.”

With a begrudged huff the fabric is accepted and the paler of the two wraps it gently around his body, silently relieved by the warmth he is immediately surrounded with.

It’s black, plush and smells like a mixture of Tony, his car, and another scent that he knows he’s smelled, but just can’t recall where.

“Do you always just keep a blanket laying around in your car?”

“No, not always.” Tony’s voice is lower as he responds this time, taking on a tone that Clay would have believed to be pain had he not known they were merely referring to an oversized piece of fleece, “Brad just got cold sometimes, so I made sure to keep it around…”

As Tony shifts the car into drive and pulls out into the empty street, the taller boy can feel his heart clench, imploring blue eyes raising to study his expressionless friend as he drove. Suddenly the foreign scent on the blanket makes sense and he doesn’t feel so chilly anymore.

“Oh… Shit… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-…”

“It’s fine, Clay.” Tony attempts to smile, though there’s not an ounce of humor to be seen, “Shit happens and people change. We just wanted different things, that’s all.”

Clay can tell by the clench of his jaw and the rapt attention he was suddenly dedicating to the street that Tony wasn’t planning on dwelling on the topic any longer and, as a result, spoke volumes of his emotional state.

His friend certainly was not as unaffected by the break up as he wanted to seem, and the blanket that smelled of Tony’s ex now laying on his lap was proof of that.

_What kind of best friend couldn’t tell that the other was heartbroken?_

“…You know, you can talk to me about that, right? About Brad and the breakup, I mean… I don’t know all that much about relationships or them ending or anything, but I can try to help? My mom always says that talking things out helps, which I guess I sort of agree with…”

He cuts himself off before he has to the chance to wind up on another useless rant and levels his attention on the now uncomfortable looking Tony. He’s not really surprised, though. It’s not like he really enjoyed communicating his feelings either.

“That’s okay, Clay.” His friend chuckles, a hollow sound that sends another shiver down Clay’s spine, but this time it’s not from the cold, “Really, this is just something I have to get through on my own. I’m fine, I promise. Besides, I didn’t come out here to talk about that.”

The car stops briefly at a red light before it turns right, the opposite direction from the taller boy’s house. He can’t say he’s surprised by that either.

Tony could tell he was struggling and wanted to talk, and they certainly couldn’t do that at his house with his mother’s helicopter parenting methods.

“… They don’t believe them, Tony…” Clay admits, figuring there’s no point in beating around the bush anymore, “Or even me for that matter… I… It just seemed like they already had their opinion and nothing I said could change it, you know? Like what Jessica and Hannah went through was irrelevant…”

Tony nods slowly, silently sickened by that development. The law was only fair to the rich and white, something he learned a long time ago, yet somehow he had still hoped for better, at least on this side of town.

“We’re messing with big forces here. Bryce and his parents have more than money on their side, and I don’t think Jessica would have moved forward with the case if she didn’t already know that.”

“I know but… But what now? What are we supposed to do to help? I can’t talk to them – they kept turning everything I said back at me or them. They asked how much Jessica drank that night, as though she fucking deserved to be raped because she was drunk…”

“What we’re supposed to do,” The shorter boy begins, a hand moving to rest gently on his friend’s shoulder to inspire him to finally meet his gaze again, “Is hope for the best and leave it to the prosecutors. They have to have Jessica’s best interests at heart, even if the detectives don’t. This is above us now, Clay.”

“Above us?” He repeats, not wanting to admit how accurate he knows that statement to be, “So we’re just going to let them and Bryce get away with what they did – with what they’re doing? How many other girls are going to get raped, Tony? How many other Hannah’s need to kill themselves before people understand?”

“I didn’t say that. Look, the evidence must be pretty strong if the detectives are talking to you and trying to find faults in what you say. They have the tapes, they have Jessica, and they have your confession, if anything this isn’t just going to go away.”

Blue eyes flutter shut at Tony’s explanation and he sighs, allowing the other boy’s reassurance to wash over him. He definitely had a point, he thinks as his head rests against the headrest of his seat, they wouldn’t be talking to him about the confession if they didn’t think it could potentially help against Bryce. He can’t imagine how the rapist is taking all of this, though he hopes it’s destroying him just as much as it destroyed Hannah and was still destroying Jessica.

He means, how could you just get over being _raped_? He doesn’t think he could.

“When did this all get so fucked up?” It’s minutes after Tony’s assertion that Clay finds the will to speak again, but this time he whispers, “When did we all get so wrapped up in all this?”

“I don’t know, Clay…” Tony admits, his own tone lackluster as his attention flickers to their dark surroundings, “I just don’t know…”

He thinks it began with a girl too bright with life for the dark town, but he knows it starts much sooner than that.

“But, what I do know, is that you can get through this. You got Bryce fucking Walker to confess to rape – that’s pretty impressive.”

Even though the other’s head turns so his face is directed towards the window, Tony can see the slightest tint of pink dusting pale cheeks as well as a hint of a smile tilting his lips.

“I hope you’re right, Tony…”  
                                                                           -xxx-

It’s an hour later when Tony drops Clay back off at his house, his return prompted by a series of rather demanding texts from none other than the taller boy’s mother. The only surprising aspect of that was that she allowed him to be out so late to begin with – usually she was especially adamant about his keeping in touch at night.

Though, ever since the tapes, no one really seemed to be the same as before.

The next day is Saturday and Tony’s invited him to try this cool new café just outside of town that he heard was pretty good. The theme was retro of some sort, apparently, and Clay has a hunch that it’s not the food that has grabbed the other boy’s interest.

Benny’s or some shit like that, he thinks as he groggily crawls out of bed the following morning, blue eyes foggy with the sleep that even now attempted to lure him back into the comforting embrace of his bed. It’s only been the last week or so since his nightmares have calmed to the point where he can sleep for longer than a few hours at a time, and he can’t even begin to voice how grateful he is for that. It’s a form of healing or something, he hopes.

Although, a drawback was the vengeance his body seemed to be taking now that rest was within the realm of possibilities for him, and thus demanded more sleep than he thought was necessary. He already had nearly nine hours of rest under his belt from the night prior and he knows that if he waits any longer before getting up he’s going to make Tony wait.

Their new destination is about an hour away according to the shorter boy, so they’re planning on setting out at 11 in order to make it in time for lunch. From there they’re going to make a day trip out of the ordeal and explore the towns just beyond their small hole in the wall that, somehow, they had never bothered visiting before.

He supposes that they’d never ventured beyond their town because, in the past, the tiny area had never felt as _suffocating_ as it did now.

A glance down at his phone notifies him that he’s spent enough time dwelling on his thoughts – it’s nearly 10:30 and he wants to be ready by the time his friend shows up to pick him up.

Dazedly, Clay shuffles to his closet and inspects his wardrobe carefully. For one reason or another he feels the need to appear at least somewhat nice that day – perhaps he’d even wear one of those collared shirts his mother adored buying for him to decorate his closet with. Probably in the hopes that the hoodie clad boy would finally pick up a fashion sense. A lost cause on her part, really.

A few minutes’ tick by as the boy flicks through his clothes listlessly, temporarily frustrated by how, despite the large amount of shirts at his disposal, he can’t find _anything_ he wants to wear.

It’s been a while since he’s cared enough to send this kind of detested grimace at his closet, since the almost date he had with Hannah at Jessica’s, he realizes, and suddenly feels awkward.

The last time he was this dedicated to looking fashionable was to impress the girl he liked… But now, now he was merely going out for a while with Tony, just like he usually did….

But then, why did he kinda, sorta, _maybe_ want to impress his friend like he did that day with Hannah…?

The longer that question resounds in his mind the more he decides he really doesn’t want to think about it and, instead, grabs the first button down he can find before escaping into his bathroom.

It’s way too fucking early to have this kind of existential or romantic or whatever bullshit of a crisis he was experiencing.

Before long he has brushed his teeth and is dressed in a dark blue button down that he’s been told brings out his eyes (the fact that it was his mother that pointed that out was irrelevant), a pair of black jeans, and his usual pair of converse. Once he’s content with his choice of wardrobe his attention shifts to his hair, which lays limply on his head in its typical manner. _Close enough._

With one last, fleeting glance into the mirror, the light is flipped off and Clay’s clambering downstairs. It’s five minutes till 11 and the boy can feel himself nearly buzzing with excitement.

He didn’t know how much he needed this short trip until now. Already he can feel some of the weight of his past slip off his shoulders and he wills himself to forget about their run in with the detectives. Tony had been right, as much as he wished he hadn’t. At that particular moment they could do nothing but wait and see how Jessica’s case played out. They’re just teenagers, after all, and this was a trial _way_ out of their league.

The first thing that comes to mind as he makes his way into the kitchen is that it’s quiet. In fact, his whole house is, and he’s thankful for that. Everyone always wanted to talk and talk and talk, but, sometimes, the quiet was a thousand times nicer.

His mother was off dealing with her most recent clients whereas his father was out of town at a Literature Professor convention or something of the nature, leaving him with the house for the majority of the day. Though even he would be leaving soon as well.

It’s the familiar chirp of his phone that has him peeking out the window, a small smile tilting his lips at the sight of that familiar Mustang parked in his driveway. It really was hard as hell to miss.

Within minutes he had dotted down a swift note meant for his mother indicating that he would be with Tony for the majority of the day before he was out the front door, being certain to lock it, and making his way towards the car.

“Morning, Clay.” Tony greets as the other slips into the passenger seat, a clenched hand raising in expectation of the other, “Ready for an adventure?”

“Definitely.” Clay smiles in return, easily moving to tap his white knuckles against tan ones before he was putting on his seatbelt and Tony was pulling into the street. “Anything to get away from this shitty town for a while.”

“Amen, brother, Amen.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a little lighter and will work towards establishing their friendship more, as well as the Winter Formal, but, from there on, it'll be treading more on legal and stressful grounds. Poor boys can't catch a break XD  
> Also, I want to thank everyone that's left comments and kudos thus far - it's really inspired me to write more and enjoy it too! I love hearing what you all think as well as what you hypothesize will happen next ^^


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